


Hands On Me (I Think I Wanna Let It Happen)

by asexual-fandom-queen (writeordietrying)



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Alley Sex, Blow Jobs, Daddy Kink, Dirty Dancing, Feelings Realization, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Jealousy, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, but very mild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:42:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22126576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeordietrying/pseuds/asexual-fandom-queen
Summary: Eddie follows a newly out-and-proud Buck to a gay bar with a few of Buck's friends one Friday night, after life's spent the last few weeks keeping them apart. He isn't expecting to meet some of Maddie's co-workers, nor is he expecting to get quite so worked up when Buck starts flirting with another guy.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Comments: 47
Kudos: 717





	Hands On Me (I Think I Wanna Let It Happen)

**Author's Note:**

> Did I write this for the Buddie smut, or for the opportunity to let Josh be Chaotic and Gay the way God intended? I guess we'll never know.
> 
> Inspired by this prompt on Tumblr from @failegaidin: Buck and Eddie dance together at a club on a dare (or hen and chim egging them on) and it gets out of hand and leads to them having sex for the first time (maybe in or against Eddie’s truck). Bonus points for slow and heavy grinding and/or Rihanna’s song “skin”
> 
> It doesn't quite hit all the elements, but I think it captures the essence of the prompt well enough. 
> 
> Title courtesy of lyrics from Liar by Camila Cabello.

“Man, are you sure you wanna do this?” Buck checks for the third time this evening. He’s walking backward, toe to heel, to scrutinize Eddie’s reaction, arms outstretched, head tilted sideways like a confused puppy dog. 

Eddie huffs and rolls his eyes. He lurches forward and shoves Buck’s shoulder, knocking him off balance. He stumbles and flails, and Eddie takes pity on him, catching his strong forearms and yanking him back to find solid footing. 

“Stop asking,” Eddie says. “I said yes the first time. You’re gonna make me think all that time around the sirens is messing with your hearing.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, what?” Buck teases, cupping a hand around his ear and leaning in. Eddie scoffs, knocks against Buck’s side to break his charade, and Buck laughs, turning to fall in step beside him. 

“You know, you’re not gonna lose Ally Points for not wanting to spend your only night off this week at a gay bar,” Buck says. 

Lifting his gaze to the garish sign on the otherwise plain building ahead, Eddie squints against the onslaught of flashing purple neon and shrugs. “I’m the one who asked to crash your night out,” he reminds Buck. 

Their schedules have been hectic, between work, and Chris’ jam-packed schedule. An injury on another of the 118’s crews means Buck and Eddie are working different hours, and in the past three weeks, they’ve hardly had time to say _hello_ as one person rolls into the station and the other clocks out for the day. 

It feels significant, too, since _The Conversation_ happened around the same time. 

_“Hey, so, I’ve been meaning to tell you something for a while,” Buck said, face pale, legs fidgeting. “Like,_ since we started working together _a while.”_

_Eddie frowned. Buck wasn’t usually so nervous, unless he thought someone was about to chastise him – but for what, Eddie couldn’t imagine. Things were finally back to normal between them, after the lawsuit, and the fight club, and the awkward apologies in which both had resulted. Buck’s nerves had set Eddie on edge._

_“Whatever’s going on, man, you can tell me,” Eddie promised. He stretched his leg across Buck’s kitchen floor to nudge the other man’s shin where he stood across from Eddie, back leaned against the island, Eddie’s own weight resting against the counter by the sink._

_“I’m bi.”_

Eddie hasn’t had a chance to spend time with Buck since. He reacted well, he knows that much, from the way Buck smiled at him, wet and relieved, with a loud, harried laugh that pulled the last of his nervous energy from his bones. But Eddie doesn’t want their current circumstances to give Buck any ill-conceived ideas that he’s changed his mind about being okay with Buck’s sexuality, about being more than happy to keep Buck in his life, in Chris’ life, openly, and proudly, and authenticly, because Eddie never wants Buck to be anyone other than himself around him, around _them_. 

So, Eddie jumped at the chance to go out with Buck tonight, even if a club, let alone a gay one, isn’t exactly his scene. 

“Just don’t come crying to me when you have to spend your whole night fending off a bunch of drunk party gays who wanna climb you like a tree,” Buck laughs. 

Eddie flushes, and thanks the darkness and the harsh purple lights for hiding it. “Okay,” he says, with a dismissive scoff and a bump of his arm against Buck’s. 

“I’m serious,” Buck says. “Some of the Drag Queens have self-reported cases of – what do they call it, _Aztec Fever_?”

“Oh, my god,” Eddie groans, curling his nose up in distaste as Buck absolutely loses it, nearly doubling over, arm bracing warm and solid against Eddie’s shoulder. “If I never hear you say that again, man, it’ll be too soon.”

Buck’s grip twitches, his thumb dragging just so across the bare skin under Eddie’s collar. Eddie feels it like a brand, and tries to chalk it up to the heat of the evening. 

“I’m just trying to brace you,” Buck says. “For what you’ve got waiting in there.” 

“Oh, you’re bracing me?” Eddie repeats, and Buck breaks down in another fit of laughter. “How considerate.” 

Buck opens his mouth to reply, but they reach the front of the queue before he gets the chance. They get through the bouncer – with an appreciative once-over for Buck that rubs Eddie the wrong way for reasons he can’t quite put his finger on – and pay their cover. Then, Buck’s checking his phone, and following the advice of a text message to a small, round table toward the dancefloor, on the opposite side of the big, open room from the bar. 

“There he is,” someone yells as they approach, with tousled brown hair and a round, handsome face. “The man, the myth, the bi-con himself. Ladies, Theydies, and Gentleman, hold on to your panties – It’s Evan Buckley!” 

He makes a series of loud, obnoxious, _whooping_ noises, like a party horn, or maybe a fire alarm. Buck chuckles and crosses his hands over his heart, a half-pleased, half-embarrassed smile stretching across his face, cheeks flushing pink. 

“Thank you, Josh,” Buck says, then adds, with a teasing purse of his lips, “how fucking tanked are you, anyway?” 

“Exceedingly,” Josh replies. 

Buck shakes his head. “It’s nine o’clock.” 

“And I have had a week,” Josh says, clutching the stem of the bright green mixed drink in front of him like a lifeline. “Do you know how many people I’ve listened to die since last Friday?” he asks, but gives no time for a reply. “Twelve. So, I’m gonna drink until I am no longer able to count that high, and if you don’t like it, you can kiss my ass.” 

“I’m sorry, I’m confused,” Buck says. He swaggers the rest of the way over to him, one thumb hooked in his belt loop, all confidence and sensuality, and flicks the tip of his nose. “Are we talking about stuff _I_ _don’t_ like, or stuff _you would_?”

Josh drops his jaw. “Cute,” he says with a chuckle and a delighted, teasing smirk. “Okay. _Okay_ , you’re real cute, Buckley, you know that?” 

“I try,” Buck replies. 

Eddie feels awkward, hovering a few paces back, watching the familiar camaraderie between Josh and Buck. He’s glad Buck has friends outside the 118 – the last few months have been a cruel eye-opener that he’s been sorely lacking in a personal life outside work – but he’s also, inexplicably, jealous. Josh bats his hand at Buck across the table, and Buck laughs, carefree and easy, and Eddie isn’t used to someone outside their little firehouse family making him make that sound. 

“Who’s your friend?” asks another of the men at the table, long-limbed and sinewy with deep, brown skin and close-cropped hair. 

“Oh,” Buck says suddenly, straightening and turning on his heels to gesture back at Eddie. “This is a friend of mine from work, Eddie Diaz.” 

He motions Eddie forward, and Eddie greets the group of four strangers with a small, terse wave. 

“Eddie, this is Josh,” Buck says, pointing to the talkative drunk, then gestures to another man to Josh’s left with thick, dark eyebrows and a long, straight nose. “And Jamal. They work with Maddie at the dispatch center.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Jamal says, extending his hand for Eddie to shake, while Josh murmurs, “Maddie was not wrong, you really are a snack.” He gets a kick under the table for his trouble and Eddie chuckles nervously, running his hand over the back of his neck. 

“And these are friends of theirs,” Buck continues, gesturing to the other two men at the table, Long-Arms, and a jacked guy in a muscle shirt with freckles and fire-orange hair. 

“Brett,” supplies Long-Arms. “LAPD, with Robbery Homicide.” 

“Mason,” says the other. “I’m a nurse at Cedars-Sinai. I’m sure Josh would _like_ me to say we met through work.” 

“Hey,” snaps Josh. “Legally, you can’t say _anything_ about how we met.” 

Jamal chuckles and shakes his head. “Ply him with enough cocktails, Mason, _you_ won’t have to.” 

“Nice to meet everyone,” Eddie says with a small, uncertain nod. He follows Buck’s lead and takes one of the two available stools around the table, then tries his level best to keep from fidgeting his fingers. 

Eddie isn’t sure why he’s so nervous. He’s always had decent people skills, has always been good at fitting in with whatever group he needed. It was a valuable asset to have as a soldier, working in tight quarters with the people in his unit, with villagers, and local translators. It was helpful when he started at the 118, too – well, helpful with everyone other than Buck. 

Maybe it’s because it suddenly feels like Buck has this whole other corner of his life that Eddie doesn't get to be in. Buck has wormed his way into every fiber of Eddie’s being. He works with him, spends their time off hanging out with him, picks his son up from school and runs him to appointments when Eddie’s stuck a work, visits with his _abuela_ when she makes extra tamales and insists he comes by.

But this is foreign to Eddie, this place and these people. He never asked, when Buck told him, how long he’s been telling _everybody_ _else_. It felt too accusatory, like Eddie thought Buck owed him his secrets, but Eddie does feel _something_ , a particular type of sting, seeing Buck with these other friends who’ve seen him, known him, in ways Eddie didn't, when he thought he was in every fiber of Buck’s being, too. 

“So, Eddie, are you single,” Josh asks, leaning across the table and shouting a bit, either to be heard over the music, or because he’s reached the noisy stage of drunk. 

“Um, yes,” Eddie replies. 

“Which does not mean you should ask him out,” Buck interrupts, leveling Josh with a hardened stare. He drapes his arm around Eddie’s shoulders and adds, “since he is very much not interested in men.” 

Josh frowns. “Oh, damn,” he says. “My _He’s Straight It’s Not Worth It_ detector is usually so much better than that.” 

Buck shrugs. He leans back in his seat, dropping his arm from Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie feels the chill of his absence immediately. “You have had a ridiculous amount to drink.” 

“Speaking of,” says Brett, sliding out of his chair. Upright, he’s even taller than Eddie would have guessed. He’s probably taller than Buck by a handful of inches. Eddie gnaws the skin on the inside of his lip. “Someone should be a gentleman and get you boys a round.” 

“I’ll have an IPA,” Eddie says, desperate for something to do with his hands. 

Buck looks up at Brett through his lashes and smiles a devastating smile. “You know what I like,” he says. 

Brett’s answering smile is just as dazzling and honey-slow. “‘Course I do.” 

They make small talk – most of which is domineered by an increasingly loud and emphatic Josh – until Brett comes back with two bottles of beer held around the neck in one hand, and a fluorescent blue drink in a highball glass held securely in the other. He places the beer down in front of Eddie without sparing him a glance, then slides the bright blue cocktail to Buck with a charming smile. 

“Don’t know how you can stomach that thing,” Brett chuckles. He takes a long, slow pull of his beer, eyes glued to Buck, and Buck eyes him back as he sucks a sip through his straw. 

“Guess I have a bit of a sweet tooth,” he says. 

Brett smirks. “Guess so,” he agrees. 

They’re flirting.

It’s fine. Eddie’s fingers don’t clench around the slick condensation of his beer bottle. He certainly doesn’t feel put off over it. Or angry about it. Because Buck is his friend, and friends are supposed to want each other to find a nice romantic partner, or at the very least, someone hot as hell to take home, if just for the night. 

“So, Eddie,” Josh says, snapping Eddie back to attention. He tries to smooth his features, to make it look less like he’s been glaring at a perfectly nice police officer. From the furrow that pinches between Josh’s brows, Eddie doesn’t figure he succeeds. “Have you always lived in California?” 

* * *

Eddie sits through another forty minutes of Buck and Brett teasing and making eyes at each other before deciding one beer isn’t going to be near enough. 

“Next round’s on me,” he announces abruptly, shifting to his feet. 

Buck blinks up at him, big and owlish, like he forgot Eddie was even there. “Oh, hey, thanks man,” he says, and smiles big, and bright, and Eddie’s chest feels tight. 

“I’ll go with,” Josh offers. He wobbles a little when he first gets to his feet, and Eddie and Jamal both throw out hands to steady him, but he rights himself without taking help from either. “Many hands, light work, yadda, yadda, yadda.” 

Eddie takes another moment to eye him dubiously, but he stays upright, doesn’t even sway, and eventually, Eddie caves, waving him over to the bar. 

It’s a Friday night, and things are packed. Eddie brushes chest to back to chest with everyone he passes, even reaches out and clasps Josh around the forearm to keep them from getting separated. 

When they get to the bar, there’s a line a dozen people deep, and Josh sighs. “Can’t you just, like, take off your shirt,” he suggests. 

Eddie glances around at the other men in threadbare tank tops and mesh crop tops and purses his lips. “Don’t think that’ll speed things up much, present company considered,” he says. 

Josh huffs. “Please,” he says. “You’re a three-course meal. We’d be front of the line like _that_.” 

He snaps his fingers, a little sloppily, to prove his point, and Eddie chuckles. “Maybe if you got in on it with me,” he says. 

Josh smirk. “Aw, look,” he says. “Baby’s first _Misplaced Gay Jealousy_ flirt.” 

Eddie’s face scrunches. “I’m sorry?” he says. 

“Come on,” Josh sighs. “My _He’s Straight It’s Not Worth It_ detector is never fucking wrong, okay? I mean, not that it makes you any more available.” 

Josh glances pointedly across the bar and back to their table, where Eddie can just make out Buck and Brett pressed close, talking, whispering in each other’s ears. Eddie flares his nostrils and takes a deep breath. 

“You know, Buck’s a hot piece of ass,” Josh says. “But he’s also a sweet kid. You could do a lot worse. Especially in here. I mean, how _do_ you think I met Mason?” 

Eddie’s shoulders stiffen. “I don’t have feelings for Buck,” he grumbles. 

Josh cocks his head. “Uh, yeah you do,” he says. 

Eddie startles, turning to stare at Josh with a furrowed brow and round, parted lips. He breathes in, like he’s going to say something in his defense, but realizes there’s nothing to defend. Josh isn’t wrong. 

It’s a terrifying thought. 

“You should ask him to dance with you,” Josh says. 

Eddie shakes his head. “No,” he replies. 

“Well, if you don’t,” Josh says. “Our friend Brett over there will. And, call me crazy, but I don’t think you’d care for that at all.” 

Eddie watches them from across the room, sees the way Buck leans into Brett, the way Brett’s fingers trail idle patterns against the top of Buck’s hand. It twists his insides. That’s supposed to be him. He’s been so stubborn, too stubborn to admit his own feelings to himself, but seeing Buck here, right now. Being on the verge of losing him. He can’t live in denial anymore. Even if this is new for him, even if he’s never really been interested in men before Buck, hasn’t been interested in any man since, or any person.

Just Buck. 

“That’s not even the worst part,” Josh adds. “The worst part is that, if they go home together tonight, or tomorrow, or next week. If they end up happy together. Then you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.

“And believe me,” he sighs. The wistfulness in his tone catches Eddie off guard, and he turns to look at him, then follows his thousand-yard stare across the bar to the other end of there table, where Jamal’s brushing the hair off Mason’s forehead, then leaning in to kiss him, soft and slow. 

“You will blame yourself.” 

Movement at the table catches Eddie’s eye. Brett stands and hooks his thumb over his shoulder, then takes off in the direction of the washrooms. Eddie’s spine stiffens. He glances back toward the bar, and they’re two from the front, but this feels like his window, his _opportunity_. He isn’t even sure what he wants, besides the way the word _everything_ rattles around in his skull. 

Josh nudges him. “Go,” he says. “I’ll get this. You go get him.” 

Eddie’s moving before he makes the conscious decision to do so. He shoulders through the crowd, muttering apologies he doesn’t mean, until he’s standing next to Buck, breathing quick, pulse thundering in time with the bass of the song blaring through the speakers and shaking the floor. 

“Hey,” Buck says with a confused smile and a tilt of his head. “Is everything okay? You didn’t get drinks?” 

Eddie swallows. “Dance with me,” he says. 

Buck blinks. “Are you serious?” 

“Yeah,” Eddie says, quick and nervous, shifting on his feet. “Come on. You came out to have a good time, right? But you haven’t hit the dancefloor once.” 

“I mean, yeah,” Buck says with a small, bewildered laugh. “Okay. Let’s dance.” 

He stands from his seat and downs the last of his watered-down drink where the ice has melted away. He reaches out and wraps a warm, broad palm around Eddie’s wrist and tugs. Eddie’s throat feels like sandpaper, his feet are heavy and uncooperative, but he follows dutifully after Buck. He lets Buck drag him closer as the crowd of people thickens until they’re pressed practically chest to chest. Eddie smells his aftershave, something sharp and spicy, and it makes his head swim. 

“What’s gotten into you, man?” Buck yells over the music. They’ve moved to the dancefloor, where bodies are moving, grinding. It presses them so close. So fucking close. 

“I don’t,” Eddie starts, then shakes his head and starts again. “Brett– I don’t want you to–” he growls, low and frustrated at the back of his throat. Why can’t he just say what he means? Why is this so difficult? 

Buck frowns. “What about Brett?” he says, head shaking as he tries to process Eddie’s disjointed words. “Do you not like him?” 

“I don’t want you to–” Eddie tries again. “I don’t want you, with him.” 

They feel so still, frozen like statues, as people dance around them. Eddie can feel every line of tension in Buck’s body. 

“Is this because he’s a man, or–”

“No,” Eddie says, cutting him off before he can even get the rest of the question out. “No, of course it’s not, Evan. I just– I don’t want–”

“What?” Buck snaps. “You don’t want what?” 

“I don’t want you to be with anybody else!” 

All of Buck’s tension crashes down around him like an avalanche. He’s suddenly boneless, swaying on his feet and into Eddie’s chest. Eddie presses closer, grips the front of Buck’s shirt over his abs and clenches and unclenches his fingers. The movement sends a chill up Buck’s spine – Eddie feels him shudder and presses even closer. 

“Nobody else,” Eddie repeats. 

Buck nods. He steps closer, until Eddie isn’t sure when he ends and Buck begins, and places his hands on Eddie’s hips. “Yeah, okay,” he says. 

Eddie shivers. 

Buck rocks against him, presses their hips close and sways. The world comes alive again over the sound of the blood rushing in Eddie’s ears. He hears the music, the sharp, brassy horns, and the heavy pounding of the baseline. 

Eddie works his hands up Buck’s chest, slides his warm, trembling palms against his peck, then trails them across his shoulders, until they cup around the back of Buck’s neck. There’s hardly much of a difference in height between them, just enough that Buck’s breath passes hot and damp against his temple. 

They fit perfectly together, Buck’s hands pressed against his ribs, holding him close, their thighs parting, making room to slot together, bodies so intertwined, they move as a unit. Every time the synth swells, every time the low end reverberates through the speakers and rattles in their chests. Eddie’s fingers twitch against the nape of Buck’s neck. 

“I didn’t know you wanted this,” Buck rasps, his voice thick and rough and raw. 

Eddie rocks their hips together, makes Buck gasp. “I tried to ignore it,” Eddie says. “I didn’t wanna mess things up, but I– I can’t do it anymore. I can’t pretend I don’t feel about you the way I feel about you.”

“What way is that?” Buck asks. 

Eddie doesn’t know how to put what he’s feeling into words, has always been better in action. So, he pushes up and kisses Buck, deep, and filthy, and hard, with every bit of pent up emotion he can manage. He’s been wanting this forever, for so much longer than he’s consciously realized – maybe since after the tsunami, when Chirs was safe in his arms and Buck was shaking with relief, or before that, when Buck was pinned under the ladder truck, and Eddie had been so terrified.

Maybe he’s wanted this from the moment they met. 

“Fuck, Eddie,” Buck groans against his mouth. 

“Yeah,” Eddie replies. “I know.” 

Buck rolls their hips again, grinds their bodies together in time with the music. “Do you wanna get outta here?” he asks. 

Eddie nods. “We should find the others first and let them know–” 

“Fuck them,” Buck says. He kisses Eddie again, licks into his mouth and pushes up against his body like he’s trying to crawl into his skin. Eddie’s getting dizzyingly hard dizzyingly fast. “I don’t care about anyone other than you right now.” 

Eddie finds the sentiment hard to argue with while Buck traces patterns against his back. He lets Buck walk him backward, across the dancefloor and out the door into the muggy evening air. 

“Come on,” Buck says, dragging him down the next alley over, and it’s so tacky, such a desperate, tasteless goddamned thing to be doing, ducking into a dark corner to get each other off, but it makes Eddie’s cock so fucking hard in his jeans he’s instantly on board. 

They venture far enough that no one can see them from the street, then behind the side of a dumpster for good measure. Buck shoves him against the rough, concrete wall, and the cool contrast feels like a salve against his overheated skin. 

“You know why it took me so long to tell you I’m bi?” Buck asks Eddie, whispers the question against his lips, like he’s been reading Eddie’s mind this whole time. 

Eddie shakes his head, and Buck kisses him again, trailing his hands up Eddie's shirt to trace the ridges of his abs. 

“I have been stupid into you for so long,” Buck says. He works the button of Eddie’s jeans, and Eddie shudders. “And I didn’t know to tell you I was into guys without it being painfully obvious that I was into you.” 

“Why’d you change your mind?” Eddie asks. The sharp sound of his fly unzipping hisses through the low baritone of their labored breaths. 

“I decided it was time to give up,” Buck says. “To get over you. God, I’m so fucking glad I didn't get over you.” 

The admission cuts Eddie to the bone. “Don’t you ever doubt how I feel about you,” he growls, teeth nipping and scraping across the tendons of muscle in Buck’s neck, against the jut of his Adam’s apple. “You’re mine. You’re always gonna be mine.” 

Buck’s hand slides into Eddie’s underwear at the same time his whispers a harsh, throaty, “yes, _Papi_ ,” and Eddie lets out the most pathetic, obscene, strangled noise, thrusting up against Buck’s hand. 

“Buck,” Eddie says darkly, a little threadbare. 

“If you don’t like it I won’t say it again,” Buck whispers, still against him, but thrumming with barely-contained electricity that’s palpable in the air around them. “But I think you do like it, a lot. Or something similar. Just, tell me what you want, and I’ll do it.”

Eddie groans. He bites against Buck’s neck, hard enough for him to cry out, squirming against him, but he doesn't pull away. “You’re such a fucking brat.” 

“Uh-huh,” Buck agrees, needy and desperate. 

“I do like it,” Eddie says, returning the favor and undoing Buck’s jeans. Buck bites his lips, tries to keep quiet, but he still lets slip tiny little kitten mewls that go right to Eddie’s cock. “You like it, too. You wanna be so nice and good for me, don’t you, _querido_?” 

“Yes, _Papi_ ,” Buck breathes. 

Eddie shudders. “That’s it. Show _Papi_ how good you can be,” he orders. He expects Buck to get his hand all the way around his cock and pull. 

He drops to his knees instead. 

“Fuck, Evan,” Eddie groans as Buck frees his cock and takes it in his mouth. He’s all tight, wet heat. His technique is good, really good, and Eddie gasps, throwing his head back hard enough to sting when it hits the wall. He threads his fingers through Buck’s hair and tries not to moan too loud. “That’s so good, _querido_. You’re doing so good for me.” 

Buck keeps sucking him off, and Eddie’s close embarrassingly fast. Between the thrill of being so out in the open, of Buck being the one on his knees for Eddie, and the sheer amount of time it’s been since the last time someone sucked his cock, Eddie’s not entirely surprised. He tries to keep his hips still, but they rock against Buck’s eager mouth, and Buck pulls off. 

“Fuck my face,” he pants. 

Eddie’s cock throbs. He grabs fistfuls of Buck’s hair at the root and tugs, sharp and hard, until Buck whines. “Is that how you ask nicely?” 

“Please, _Papi_ ,” Buck corrects. “Will you fuck my face?” 

Eddie groans and thrusts his cock back into Buck’s slack, open mouth. He tucks his teeth under his lips and leaves enough slack in his jaw for Eddie to fuck him comfortably, without being too sloppy. He pushes Buck until he gags, but adjusts, lets his mouth hang open looser and breaths through his nose, until he’s got Eddie’s cock taken three-quarters of the way. 

“Fuck,” Eddie says. “You’re gonna make me cum, Buck. Baby, I’m so close. Can I cum in your mouth?” 

Buck struggles to nod with Eddie’s cock still in his mouth. The quick, furious movement of Buck’s right hand picks up its pace, and he moans around Eddie, chasing them both toward that finish line. 

“Oh, fuck,” Eddie groans, and then it’s over, his vision nearly whiting out as Buck sucks him through his orgasm, swallowing every drop of cum Eddie pumps into his mouth. He listens to the wet, squelching sound of Buck’s hand still working his own cock as he comes down from his high until Buck’s moaning around him, sending another ripple of pleasure that’s just this side of too much up Eddie’s spine as Buck finds his own release. 

Buck takes Eddie’s cock from his mouth, licks away escaped trails of cum of excess saliva before tucking Eddie back into his underwear and doing up his jeans. He gets to his feet on wobbly legs, and Eddie reaches out to steady him. His forearms feel good, warm and solid under Eddie’s fingers. 

“Thank you,” Eddie pants, still trying to catch his breath, even as he pulls Buck in for a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. He tastes himself on Buck’s tongue, and his cock makes a valiant effort to stir again. “Sorry I didn’t get to help you out much,” he adds, gesturing to Buck’s flagging cock as he tucks it back into his own pants. 

“Don’t even worry about it,” Buck says with a dismissive nod. “Besides, just because you didn’t touch me doesn’t mean you didn’t help.” 

He flushes into his hairline, looks so goddamn adorable for someone who just had a dick in his mouth, and Eddie chuckles. “So, daddy kink? Really?” 

Buck shuffles his feet. “Which you seemed more than happy to go along with,” he says. 

“Oh, trust me,” Eddie says. “I am more than happy. I guess I’m just wondering now what else you might be into.” 

Buck smirks. “You wanna take me out to dinner sometime and we can compare lists?” 

Eddie smiles right back. “It’s a date.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact, Jamal is a real character. He and Josh have one (1) conversation during Fallout when Josh asks him if he's going to come out with him tonight, and I've decided they've got an office romance, 100k, slowburn, mutual pining kinda thing going on, but that's just me. 
> 
> Additional fun fact, yes I did dig through IMDb to find his name, and yes, it was worth it. 
> 
> As always, Kudos and Comments are much appreciated. 
> 
> If you'd like, you can also check me out on [Tumblr!](https://asexual-fandom-queen.tumblr.com/)


End file.
